


Don't Let Them See You Cry

by IcyPanther



Series: If You Close Your Eyes Then it Never Happened [2]
Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Angst, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, CSA, Criminal sexual assault, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con, Langst, Rape Recovery, Recovery, Sequel, Slave Trade
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-05
Updated: 2018-07-05
Packaged: 2019-06-05 18:42:32
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 11,932
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15176930
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/IcyPanther/pseuds/IcyPanther
Summary: (SEQUEL) Something is wrong with Lance. He claimed nothing happened when he was captured by bounty hunters, but he's not acting the same; he's skittish and quiet and avoiding them. He's trying, they can tell, but it's like he's going through the motions of what is expected of him. They're worried. And scared. And now they're determined to find out what's wrong so they can fix it.





	Don't Let Them See You Cry

**Author's Note:**

  * For [fayheyhey](https://archiveofourown.org/users/fayheyhey/gifts).



> **Timeline notes:** Takes place immediately following the fanfic _So Much to Offer_. **READ THAT FIRST!** Within the VLD universe, this is set in season four between episodes one and two.
> 
>  **Warning notes:** This fic incorporates the events of its predecessor, which means there will be mentions and thoughts of sexual assault; however there will not be any actual depiction of it. Still, if any type of rape/CSA is a major trigger for you please proceed with caution even though the premise of this fic is about aftermath and recovery.

 

"We are here."

At the announcement, Lance slowly pulled himself to sitting from where he had been curled up, body protesting the movement. His hands were white-knuckled on the scratchy emergency blanket as he clutched it together in front of him.

It was the only stitch on him.

He'd frantically torn off the slaver's clothing shortly into the flight, the feel of the barely there gauzy fabric brushing against his skin too reminiscent of smooth hands before they had… had…

He had thrown up again, a ropy string of bile.

Shame had darkened his face as the Blade member, Keizu he had introduced himself, came into the hold alerted by the noise but all he'd done was produce an empty box, a water pouch and had taken away the bunched up wad of fabric after using it to wipe up the bile with a knowing look.

He'd spent the rest of the near three hour ride curled up underneath the rough blanket in the exact center of the hold and far away from the walls that even then were still too close, pressing in.

Lance had to keep reminding himself he wasn't in the display case.

There was no one watching him. Ogling him. Creating fantasies of what they wanted to do to him.

He'd vomited again even though he had nothing left.

All of him ached, a deep physical pain inside that he wasn't sure would ever go away. He had tried, curling up and pressing his hands to his lower stomach, careful not to touch other parts of him that  _he_ had touched and…

The box had gotten another visit.

Three hours had passed by much too quick.

He wasn't ready.

He wasn't ready to paste on a smile, to pretend everything was all right.

But he had to.

He was a Paladin of Voltron. He couldn't afford to be that scared, horrified boy anymore. Not with the rest of his team still down from the illness and he the only Paladin standing.

An illness they had almost died from because he couldn't even do something as simple as get them medicine.

If the Blade member hadn't found him at the auction house they would be dead. They would be dead and Lance would be someone's property and it would be  _all his fault._

He couldn't face them all. He couldn't.

He had almost killed them.

When they had counted on him he had let them down.

He was the worst.

It was why they could never know what happened. He couldn't do that to them. They would try and blame themselves – shouldn't have gotten sick, should have gone with him, should have picked a different planet – but it wasn't their faults.

He was the failure.

He hadn't been able to save himself. Save them.

He didn't deserve to call himself a Paladin.

And yet he had to because they needed him to. The universe needed him to.

So he would bury the memories, force himself to forget.

He had to.

A soft thump as the Blade's craft touched down had his stomach lurching. Only once it was steady did Lance shakily pull himself to standing, the blanket falling to nearly his ankles as he held it closed at his chest.

The collar was still visible.

Keizu had told him it would need to be carefully removed as it had not been designed to come off. It was not something he was capable of doing himself and Lance had both despaired and been grateful as he didn't want any additional hands near or on him. Keizu's touch was gentle when he had placed his hand upon Lance's head after giving him the blanket, but it had been brief.

This would not be brief.

Lance trembled at the thought of anyone messing about his neck, their breath hot on his face, hands holding onto his shoulders.

He'd keep the collar. He could explain it away.

Somehow.

He still had to come up with a story.

Keizu told him that other than himself and his superior, Kolivan, no one knew the details of Lance's situation other than he had been captured and later retrieved by the Blade. It was up to Lance as to what he wanted to share.

Lance wasn't going to share anything.

The focus shouldn't be on him anyway. It should be on his team that he'd almost killed, who had almost been cooked alive from their fevers and had been in such pain while he was busy being chased and strung up by chains and…

Lance shut down the memory as fast as he could.

Keizu relayed that the team was still in the lounge where they had been found and all were still unconscious but would recover. So he had a few hours at least.

Then Keizu told him Keith was there.

Keith was how they had gotten into the castle as despite their alliance with the Blade of Marmora the castle was still only coded for the five humans and two Alteans to enter freely.

Keith was one of the most socially awkward people Lance had ever met.

But he wasn't stupid.

He might not put two and two together but he would know  _something_ was wrong, especially if Lance came in clutching his blanket like it was a shield. He'd want answers, impatient as always, and Lance…

Lance still didn't know what to say.

So the current plan was to get into castle, retreat immediately for bathroom (lock the door), shower until maybe he could forget the feeling of foreign hands (he'd never leave though) and then go to his room, get dressed (but not too much even though he wanted to cover every piece of exposed skin he couldn't do anything out of the ordinary) and above all:  _avoid Keith._

His plan did not go so well.

Lance entered the castle with Keizu at his side and turned immediately for the living quarters while Keizu continued onwards towards the conference room the Blades had taken over in the interim.

He had just entered the hallway when there was a flash of black and purple in the corner of his eye and Keith exited his old bedroom (although old was up for debate as he'd only been with the Blades for about two weeks), clearly just as surprised to see Lance as Lance was to see him.

Lance's stomach dropped as he could feel Keith's eyes taking in the blanket, the bare feet and ankles before drifting back up to his face.

Keith's mouth opened, no doubt a question, and Lance didn't give him a chance to ask it.

"Hi, bye," he squeaked out, stepping past Keith in one, two, three steps and beelining for the bathroom door, already pushing it open before Keith managed to make a sound.

"Lance, wh–?"

Keith's voice was cut off as the door thudded shut behind him and Lance slid the bolt into the lock, blood pounding in his ears as he waited for the angry knocking, the demands he explain himself.

Quiet echoed.

Lance let out a shuddering breath ten ticks later.

Still nothing.

Lance would take it and deal with the questions later.

He crossed quickly to the shower, pushing back the curtain, and starting the water to the hottest setting the castle offered. While he waited for the water to heat he went over to the cabinet where they all kept their toiletries, retrieving two bars of soap, shampoo and conditioner and a freshly laundered towel and washcloth, carefully balancing it all while still holding the blanket shut tight.

The water still wasn't hot enough, the steam only just starting to show, so Lance dumped his loot and then made his way towards the mirror.

He didn't recognize the person staring back.

This person looked small, shoulders hunched in the tasteless gray blanket, with dead eyes and too large of lips, still ravaged from kisses. A hint of tan skin gleamed at base of his collarbone, the oil still making him shine and bringing back rough, rocky hands slathering it on every bit of him.

Lance shuddered.

The collar wrapped about his neck was gold in color, simple in decoration but Lance knew the dark things it was capable of.

It still wasn't the worst part.

The worst part was hidden beneath the blanket, clutched in trembling hands.

Lance forced himself to drop it.

He didn't let his eyes linger long but it was long enough. Thin scratches decorated up his torso – he could feel the lizard's claws while its tongue… he gagged at the memory – and bruises – fingerprints, his stomach twisted – dotted his inner thighs and extended along behind, peppering all over his backside and he felt a phantom hand descend on the marks.

Lance fled for the shower.

He used both bars of soap, scrubbing so hard that he rubbed his skin raw, blood staining the cloth.

He scrubbed more.

He had to get it off. The oil, the bruises, the hands… all of it. It all had to go.

He didn't allow himself to cry.

Paladins didn't – couldn't– cry. He couldn't let them see him cry.

The shower cried for him instead. Lance turned it off almost an hour later, dried its tears away, and forced his limbs to stop their trembling as he wrapped a towel fully about himself before he went to his room to change and then report to the lounge.

He was a Paladin of Voltron, he told himself.

It was time to at least attempt to act like one.

He couldn't let them see him cry.

xxx

Keith drummed his fingers on his thigh, restless but not knowing what to do. He'd already replaced the cooling cloths upon each brow, shifted Pidge before she rolled off the couch and administered a second dose of medication to everyone, holding their heads up as the tablets dissolved on their tongues.

He needed to do  _something_ more and that something was definitely not sleep although he'd only gotten a couple hours before all this. He felt anxious, heart in his throat even though the worst was over.

The worst being told by Kolivan there had been a situation and they needed to check on the status of Voltron  _now_ and even that hadn't been as terrifying as arriving at the darkened castle and finding his team lying lifeless in the lounge after rushing through the other parts of the castle calling for them with no answer.

Keith had thought they were dead.

Kolivan had pushed passed him when he'd frozen at the sight and had yelled for the medic they had brought with, who identified the symptoms (something about body temperature and veins) and had sent out for medicine  _immediately_ and then forced them all to drink some vile tasting clear liquid that was supposed to prevent them from getting sick was only after that Keith realized Lance was missing.

He'd demanded an answer from Kolivan, because he had to know,  _right?_ and gotten a very vague response of Lance was elsewhere but was now in Blade custody and would be returning shortly. That was it. No reason as to why Lance wasn't sick too, why he wasn't here, why he hadn't gone and gotten the medicine himself.

Keith's first reaction was anger. How could Lance be off gallivanting when the team was  _dying?_ But he'd calmed down the longer he sat with the team. Lance would never endanger the team. Never (at least not intentionally). He'd have only left to get help, likely medicine.

But maybe Lance was sick too?

Keith had assumed as such until he'd spotted Lance clearly trying to hurry down the hall, wrapped in a blanket and looking like a deer in the headlights when he'd spotted Keith. Keith frowned at that, fingers ceasing their drumming.

Lance had not been sick, not the same flushed face and shallow breath of the others, but he had not looked well. Pale and pink all in one with what little skin he could see shining bright (and not sweat, Keith didn't think) although his eyes were dull.

He'd vanished into the bathroom before Keith could ask what had happened and Keith had not pursued. He knew too well the feeling of needing to be alone, to  _think,_ without someone pressuring for answers. It was why he told himself that when Lance did come down to the lounge he wasn't going to bombard him even though he really, really wanted to know.

That promise was harder than he thought to keep when Lance finally showed almost two hours later. He wasn't wearing his normal casual attire but instead a pair of nondescript black sweatpants with sock-clad feet, one of those tacky large tee shirts that had a stylized image of Voltron and a baggy zip up that was closed to about Lance's chest.

But it was the collar, a gleaming piece of gold, and Lance's quiet entrance that really tripped him up. Lance was  _never_ quiet. Not like this.

Lance though wasn't looking at him at all, gaze drifting over the inert forms and he slowly moved to Hunk's side, a slightly shaking hand reaching out and pressing against Hunk's cheek, a heavy breath leaving him then. Keith could understand that; he kept checking Shiro in the same way to see if the heat from his skin was any less and although they were all still much too warm it no longer felt like a dangerous heat.

Only then did Lance turn to him, ocean meeting amethyst for a brief second before he looked away, and whispered, "They're gonna be okay?"

"Yeah," Keith said just as softly. "Baco, the medic, said the fevers should be down by late morning and thinks they'll start waking up then."

"I thought…" Lance trailed off, shaking his head. His attention had moved to Pidge but even from his perch on the couch Keith could see a brightness to Lance's eyes. He was going to cry.

Keith felt his stomach clench. He had  _no_ idea how to handle crying people.

"Don't cry," he blurted, feeling his cheeks heat as soon as the words were out.

Lance though…

Lance paled like he'd seen a ghost.

Somehow that was even more worrying than the almost tears.

"I, I mean, um, you can, if you want to," Keith amended, tongue tripping over itself. "But they're gonna be fine. Promise."

Lance didn't look at him but gave a jerky nod. A moment later he drifted away from Pidge and made a stop at every single member of their team, hands tucked up under his arms now as though trying to give himself a hug and avoid touching them.

It looked wrong.

Keith didn't like it. And while he wasn't much good at the whole comforting others thing (see above) he knew he had to try.

"Um… you okay?"

Lance looked up at the address and a smile crossed turned up his lips.

It didn't reach his eyes.

"Yeah, I'm fine. All good. Not…" his attention was dragged back towards Hunk. "Not… not sick, at least."

Keith acknowledged he didn't always get social cues but that was one of the least convincing displays he'd ever seen of a reassurance.

Lance let out a tiny sigh then and made his way over to the couch, sinking down with a cushion between him and Keith. He tucked his legs up underneath himself and kept his arms in that self-hug hold. Keith floundered on what to say now.

What would the others do? Hunk would shift over and pull Lance into a giant hug, Pidge would probably clamber up next to him and give him a good shoulder check before cuddling up to his side. Shiro would kneel in front of Lance, at his level, and ask Lance if he wanted to talk. Coran would give Lance a hug too and recite some weird Altean story that always made Lance laugh. He wasn't quite sure what Allura would do, but maybe take Lance's hands in her own and give them a squeeze?

None of those felt right to Keith. He continued to sit near ramrod straight on the couch, looking at Lance out of his peripheral, questions rather than comforts dancing on his tongue. What had happened? What was the collar? Where had Lance been? Had he contacted the Blades? Why did Lance look so… so  _small?_

"I went to get medicine." Lance's tone was soft but the words were like a gunshot in the otherwise quiet room. Keith blinked. Well. Apparently he didn't have to ask at all. "Got… got picked up by bounty hunters."

Keith's eyes widened. What?

Lance finally turned to him then, a ghost of a smile on his face and his shoulders in a more relaxed slouch than before. "It's fine though," he quickly said, as though afraid Keith was going to interrupt. "Really. Nothing happened. Just a trip across space that I don't even remember." A low chuckle that didn't sound very humorous to Keith. "An undercover Blade member saw me being unloaded and took a picture and" – Lance's voice picked up in pitch – "did you know the Blade has a database of allies? Cool, right? They, they saw my information and swooped in and rescued me," Lance winced, hands clenching in his lap, "and then came here and rescued the rest of the team and now here I am."

Keith gave a slow nod. That… sounded feasible. And getting picked off by bounty hunters was no doubt a scary experience lending credence to Lance's quieter demeanor and – oh. Keith's eyes widened and then softened. Of course. Lance had been getting medicine. And if the Blade hadn't stepped in then… then Lance would no doubt not only be en route to the Galra Empire but the rest of the team would be…

Keith swallowed thickly. He got it now. And of course Lance would try and blame himself. He wasn't sure if it would help alleviate that guilt but he could at least make an attempt. Swallowing again Keith said bluntly, "It's not your fault."

Lance's eyes widened. "…what?"

Keith waved a hand at the room at large, not sure how to convey it. "You. The medicine. That you didn't get it back to the team. That's not your fault. Don't… don't blame yourself."

And for the first time since he'd entered the room a real smile, soft and gentle, crossed Lance's face and Keith tentatively returned it.

"Thanks, Keith," Lance murmured. "I… Um… I… thanks."

Keith inclined his head and then tapped his own neck then, wanting more answers now that Lance didn't look as though a breeze would uproot him. "This from the bounty hunters?"

Lance stiffened but then nodded. "Um, yeah. For… for inventory, I guess. It also, uh," he winced, fingers lightly touching it, "it, um, sort of shocks you too."

Keith stared. Why the hell wasn't it off then?

Lance seemed to hear the question and continued, hands back in his lap. "Keizu, the Blade who um, rescued me, said it's complicated. Pidge probably, when she's better can, um, get it off then. It's fine. He's got the remote so…"

Keith continued to stare and Lance ducked his head. He couldn't help it though. Lance might be trying to downplay what had happened but facts were facts. Lance had been captured, likely roughed up if the way he was gingerly moving was any indication, and shocked. And given what he knew of Lance's mechanism of talk first, think later he had no doubt the bounty hunters had used that feature more than once.

"Do you need a pod?"

Lance flinched at that and shook his head. "N-no. I'm fine. Nothing… nothing to fix." He sent Keith another smile then but this one didn't look right either.

Keith dropped it. He wasn't a busybody like Hunk or a need-to-know like Allura or Shiro had to be. Lance didn't want to talk about it and if the Blades hadn't insisted he see at least the medic then whatever injuries he had weren't threatening.

"Well, I'm… I'm glad you're safe," Keith put out and was rewarded with a small but real smile. "And… and everyone else is too."

"Yeah," Lance leaned back on the couch, almost looking at ease. "Yeah, they are."

And in a quiet but companionable silence they waited.

xxx

"—stay here. I think it would be for the best for now."

Keith paused. He knew it wasn't right to eavesdrop but Kolivan  _had_ called for him to meet with him in… two more dobashes and if he hadn't wanted anyone to overhear then he should have closed the conference room door.

And he had the feeling Kolivan was talking about him.

Keith stifled the yawn that threatened to give away his position. He had tried to close his eyes a few times but between Lance constantly jerking awake with a breathless gasp and one time a short scream when he did fall asleep for a few minutes and then the Blades coming and going to check on them and the Paladins it hadn't been much.

Baco had made an announcement around 0500 hours that the fevers were starting to finally break although Keith had suspected as such as his team – well, old team – had begun shifting and twitching and a few were mumbling. Pidge in particular was alternating between calling for Matt and muttering about a line of code.

A Blade Keith had never seen before and not masked like most preferred, had sat with Pidge for a few moments, an object he couldn't quite make out in his hands, before placing a large hand on Pidge's head and murmuring something below his breath.

He'd looked up and Keith had looked away, not wanting to be accused of staring. The Blade had chuckled softly, introduced himself as Keizu and said Pidge reminded him of his own daughter, who he had not seen in… he'd trailed off then and Keith had felt sympathy bubble up in his chest. Lance had said this Blade was undercover. He wondered how many of them had sacrificed time with their families for the mission.

Lance had been sleeping (of a sort, all twitches and a furrowed brow) during the exchange and Keizu had gone over to him and placed that same large hand on Lance's head, smoothing down bangs. Lance had stiffened before going utterly limp. He'd slept for almost half an hour straight after that, Keith had counted, before whatever nightmares were plaguing him woke him.

Keith did not ask about them and Lance did not offer. He feigned sleep every time after the first time when Lance had whispered out an apology, guilt painting his features.

Keith had been relieved to get the summons to talk with Kolivan to get out of the room with a valid excuse. He'd left earlier than needed given the location of the conference room to the lounge and now here he was, overhearing something although the response to Kolivan was too quiet for him to make out even with his advanced hearing.

"Keith," called out Kolivan a tick later and Keith startled, color staining his cheeks. He hadn't been quiet enough apparently.

He shifted to the open doorway with a quiet, "Sir," and a respectful bow of his head, peeking through his fringe to see that the other occupant was Keizu.

Kolivan didn't call him on his conduct although the hard set of his brow was telling enough. Then again, that was Kolivan's generic expression so Keith couldn't be entirely sure. "Baco reports the Paladins should be up and moving by 0700 with little complications. We will be removing ourselves shortly thereafter. You, however," and Kolivan's yellow gaze bored into Keith's, "will remain here."

"I don't understand," Keith spoke around his confusion, the sick twist in his stomach that he'd messed up, that he'd disappointed Kolivan somehow and his assistance was no longer wanted.

"It will only be for about a movement," Kolivan continued and Keith's stomach righted itself even as it sank lower; he hadn't realized how much he'd missed everyone until he'd come back. "Although the Paladins will be fully recovered momentarily we have decided it is in the best interest to have a spare pilot available for the Lions for a short time in case there are complications; human immune systems are new to this disease and there may be relapses."

Keith gave a slow nod. It made sense, but… something wasn't quite right. He held his tongue though, not yet in a rank high enough to question a direct order and since this one didn't involve… his hands clenched, Regris' face flashing through his mind, he wouldn't argue.

"Understood," he said instead and there was the briefest nod of approval from Kolivan.

"Good. Dismissed."

xxx

"Lance, hold still," Pidge growled, hand tightening on the Altean screwdriver equivalent that she was attempting to get under the back port of the shock collar on his neck, but Lance kept jerking forward.

She had only been awake for a couple hours and was still exhausted and thus her tolerance level for stupid stuff was at an all time low but she was stubbornly refused to sleep until she had this horrible collar off.

The events of the past day were hazy but she'd been told she had nearly died from a fever and while that was concerning it was over and everyone was okay and no worse for the wear.

Except for Lance.

Lance had relayed, quietly, with a large furred Galran standing to the side of him, that he'd left to get medicine and been captured by bounty hunters last night. He'd been rescued by Keizu, the Galran, who had alerted the Blades and gotten them medical attention and saved their lives. He'd apologized, voice smaller than Pidge had ever heard for messing up and almost getting them all killed.

Keith had hotly thrown Lance's apology right back, Lance flinching as Keith had risen to his full height with fists clenched, and retorted that they'd already agreed that Lance had nothing to apologize for. Pidge honestly had been surprised that Keith came to such a conclusion already.

Allura had more gently assured Lance that there was no fault to be found and she was more concerned about his welfare following the capture. She had gone to maybe hold Lance's hand, Pidge wasn't sure, but Lance had tucked them into his lap with a wide-eyed stare that had the princess pausing in her approach.

Weird.

Lance had assured them he was fine, nothing had happened, and he did absolutely not need a pod. That part Pidge got. Lance avoided them as much as possible following the not-haunted castle incident and the matter had been dropped. The only thing that still remained was the gold collar around his neck, which Lance had quietly relayed was a shock collar.

The anger following that had been palpable, Hunk's normally genteel expression stormy and Shiro had clenched his prosthetic so hard it had creaked. Pidge was disgusted by these bounty hunters, that they would use something so cruel on anyone and she had no doubt Lance had had a few encounters with it.

It was at least the only reason she could explain for the way he kept shying away from her hands even after he'd personally asked her if she could remove it.

"I'm not going to shock you," she reassured him, hoping that was true.

"I know," he muttered. "I know."

He leaned forward again.

Pidge resisted the urge to clunk him over the head with the tool. But Lance was already acting a bit off and she doubted a concussion would improve those symptoms.

Getting the collar off would do it, she was certain, but he  _kept moving._

"What if we just cut it off?" Hunk offered, leaning against Pidge's work table.

"No can do," Coran chimed in, perched on a stool just to the right of the proceedings. "That's udiuum steel, nearly indestructible."

Pidge's brow ticked. She had accepted their offer of assistance, especially as Lance was being particularly weird (not that she could blame him, she was glad she'd had a fever rather than being captured by bounty hunters and know she was headed to the Galra Empire, thank you very much) and Hunk was good at calming him down and Coran had insight into various alien things she did not, but Lance had shied away from Hunk too. His cheeks had darkened at the retreat, apologizing repeatedly and had then clutched onto Hunk's hand when Hunk had made to step back, as though he was afraid Hunk would disappear.

Something curled up in Pidge's stomach at the near desperation in Lance's face before it had vanished underneath a near blank mask. Both were unnerving.

Get the collar off, she chanted at herself. It would all be better then.

"Udiuum?" Hunk repeated. "Never heard of it."

"Me neither," Lance said quietly, and Pidge gritted her teeth as he turned his head towards the others and the port she was attempting to work on angled away.

"Oh, it's quite a marvelous material. Excellent for crystal conduction."

"You think that's what is powering the collar?" Hunk sounded appalled, no doubt thinking of Balmeran crystals being used in such a thing.

"Very possible. What's interesting is the gold alloy covering. I would think it's for a cosmetic purpose," – Lance stiffened beneath Pidge's hand as she wrenched him back in the proper direction – "but bounty hunters would not care for such things so there must be a practical application."

"Maybe some type of mineral reaction to the crystal?" Hunk mused. "Or maybe–"

"That's it!" Pidge shouted and Lance flinched and she realized belatedly she'd yelled that almost directly into his ear. She pointed her screwdriver at Hunk and Coran. "Silence, both of you. Or–"

She felt the pulse beneath her hand at the same time Lance went completely still as though frozen.

Something had just happened.

The collar?

She went to tap it but Lance was jerking away from her touch, nearly toppling off his own stool.

His pupils had shrunk to pinpricks and his chest was heaving up and down as though he'd been running although he was making no noise.

"Lance?" Pidge reached out again and Lance backed up. His foot caught in the stool and he went down.

There was not a sound except his body hitting the floor and the stool rolling across Green's hangar, an uneven  _thump thump thump_ that sounded like a distorted heartbeat.

"Lance,  _hermano,"_ Hunk knelt next to him, hand going towards Lance's shoulder and Lance let out a silent yelp and backed up. Hunk froze, hand outstretched and looking a mixture of horrified and scared.

"The collar," Pidge surmised, flicking through the last few moments. Her tone hardened. "It's voice activated. Silence," Lance winced again, hand flying to his throat, "mutes it."

"Lance," Hunk breathed, aghast. "What… why… why didn't you…?"

Say something, Pidge filled in. Well, too late now.

"How do we turn it off?" she asked instead, hoping Lance had an idea. He clearly knew about this feature of it although why he'd failed to share it she had no idea.

In answer Lance dug a trembling hand into his jacket pocket and pulled out a small silver control, a sort of remote.

"That would have been helpful," Pidge snapped, regretting it immediately as Lance winced.

"Now, now," Coran cut in, hands waving down the air placatingly. "Let's focus on the solution, yes, not the cause. Lance, lad, how about we take a look at that control, hm?"

Lance held it out and Pidge took it carefully, turning it over in her hands. There were a number of buttons on it and all in a script she didn't know. The largest one though looked the most promising and she pressed down on it.

Lance screamed.

Silently.

His hands flew to his throat even as his head tipped back, exposing protruding veins in his neck and absolute agony on his face.

Holy shit.

She was shocking him.

"Pidge turn it off!" screamed Hunk, reaching for Lance and yelping as he made contact. A fullbody shock then.

Oh God.

Pidge hit the same button but Lance only seemed to be screaming louder, crashing onto his side now and body convulsing.

Desperately Pidge hit the smaller button next to it and like a literal switch had been flipped Lance stopped moving.

Pidge felt her breath catch. Had she just…?

A tick later Lance shifted, pulling a his face free from where he'd buried it in his arm, body trembling from the aftershocks.

"Lance, Lance," Hunk was at Lance's side, hovering nervously before making a decision and pulling Lance into a slumped sit, holding him tight against his chest. Lance struggled for all of a second before going limp, pressing his head against Hunk's shoulder. Coran crouched down next to him and placed a careful hand on Lance's knee, earning another shudder but that was it.

"Lance, I… I'm so sorry," Pidge's voice broke. "I didn't… I thought…I'm so  _sorry."_

Lance lifted his head then and shook it at her. No. He pointed a shaking hand at himself.  _My fault_ she translated.

"No," she retorted, even though in a way it was. But not really. This was the bounty hunters' fault. And God, no wonder why he'd been so twitchy, knowing what kind of response she could set off if she hit the wrong piece of wiring.

She needed to get it off and get it off  _now._

Pidge frowned at the device. If silence had muted Lance then it stood to reason there was another command that would undo it, right?

"Talk," she ordered. Lance shook his head and mouthed something else at her.

"Speak?" she tried and Lance shuddered before a raspy breath escaped him, followed by another.

"Are you all right now, my boy?" Coran asked and got a nod and a whispered, "yeah."

"Why didn't you tell us?" Pidge demanded as gently as she could, but based on Lance's wince it had still been harsh.

"I, um… he– um, they didn't like it when... when I talked," Lance said after a moment, voice still rough. "I didn't… didn't want…you to..."

"You honestly think I'd play a prank over this?" Pidge asked, hurt filling her chest. She had jokingly commented multiple times about wishing she had a mute button for Lance when he wouldn't shut up but this? This wasn't… she would  _never._

"No!" wide eyes met her own. "No, that wasn't… I… didn't mean…" Lance swallowed thickly, collar bobbing. "I'm sorry. I should have… have told you."

"Don't apologize," Pidge said, feeling her stomach unclench from hurt but confusion still swirled as to  _why_ Lance had kept this from them. She tamped it down. Not now. "Just… anything else we should know?"

Lance shook his head.

"Okay then. Can I try and get this off now?"

"Yes," Lance licked his lips nervously, "please."

They ended up staying on the floor, Pidge kneeling behind Lance and Coran and Hunk holding him steady.

And despite the fact the collar's effects had to have worn off after a few minutes…

Lance never stopped shaking.

xxx

Hunk was worried.

Well, more so than usual. It had been three days since the incident – which Hunk was calling the mash of fatal illnesses, Lance's capture by bounty hunters and Keith's surprising but welcome return to the team for about a week – and Lance… Lance was not doing good.

He wasn't sleeping, Hunk knew. There were dark bags underneath his eyes every morning that not even concealer could cover (although he could see Lance had tried). His neck was still bound up in soft bandages and salve, skin an angry red from the collar, but Lance assured them all it wasn't too painful so it wasn't pain keeping him awake and Lance had finally stopped moving like he had bruised his tailbone (an injury Hunk unfortunately knew well) and holding his stomach as though it was upset.

Normally when Lance couldn't sleep, be it nightmares or homesickness or the quiet, Hunk could always count on a bed buddy.

Lance hadn't come to him once.

He'd tried going to Lance, bringing pillows and blankets with plans to turn it into an all out sleepover affair, but Lance had turned him down, insisted he was fine and wasn't in the mood for company tonight.

Hunk tried not to feel hurt and Lance's heartbroken expression as he closed the door in Hunk's face told him that whatever was going on was not something on his end.

But that meant it was on Lance's side and Lance wouldn't talk to him.

And Lance told him  _everything._

It wasn't just that Lance wasn't sleeping. He wasn't… wasn't acting like himself. He was trying, Hunk could see. He had made comments about Keith's hair, showed off his sharpshooting in training and grinned, very pleased with himself at the perfect score, ribbed Coran for his attempts at cooking, wheedled Hunk for his, played with the mice, shot Allura a pickup line although they had both winced after he said it and Lance had scurried off immediately, and had continued to commandeer the shower for insane amounts of time to the point it felt like stepping into a sauna most mornings and although that was a bit excessive Hunk credited it to the not sleeping thing.

But all of those things?

It was like Lance was going through the motions, doing what was expected of him.

It was unnerving.

As much as Hunk hated fighting he kept hoping there would be some incident that would require them to form Voltron because in that form all of their minds were melded and while everyone kept up a mental wall for privacy Hunk knew he could prod a bit at Lance's and try and get a glimpse of what was going on his best friend's head. It was a bit underhanded but Hunk had long ago accepted he was more than a bit nosy and at this point he was worried enough about Lance and would risk his anger if it would get Lance to at least  _talk_ to him.

But nothing.

Which was why Hunk was going to plan B.

Shopping.

Such a thing never failed to brighten Lance up and he needed a new outfit. His had been confiscated by the bounty hunters Lance had finally admitted when Hunk had asked about the new attire of sweatpants and zip up jacket and Hunk's heart had gone out to him. The jacket had been Lance's older brother's and he knew how dear it was to him. A new one could never replace it but there had to be something at the space mall that Lance liked. Allura had even donated money for the cause, giving Hunk's hand a tender squeeze and quietly asking him to find something that would put a "real" smile on Lance's face.

Hunk wasn't sure if he should be more worried or touched that Allura had noticed something off too.

And now here they were, parking the supply pod at the mall. Lance had kept up a steady stream of chatter as he flew – Hunk hadn't even tried to pilot as Lance had seemed almost relaxed behind the wheel – about the passing planets and about the mice's latest caper with his slippers when he'd found them holding races down the stairs in them.

Not a word about the mall.

Hunk filed it away into the growing concerns folder even as he did his best to laugh along with Lance's story.

"Maybe there'll be some pretty girls to flirt with, huh?" Hunk grinned, very, very lightly nudging Lance's shoulder. That had always been Lance's favorite part of going to the shopping districts after all.

He was not surprised when Lance pulled away from the nudge – he was avoiding nearly all touch – but he was surprised at the flinch his words brought on.

"...maybe," Lance said after a moment without any sort of enthusiasm.

Hunk's file drawer was growing.

It continued to do so as they made their way through the mall as Lance practically sprinted past stores that had mannequins on display despite the fact one was wearing a jacket in a mix of hunter green and brown that Hunk thought he'd really like. When he'd stopped Lance, grabbing him by the wrist and trying not to flinch himself at Lance's recoil, to point it out Lance had glanced to the glass case as though expecting it to attack him.

Hunk had managed to get him inside the store to try it on, and that had unlocked a whole host of new concerns.

Lance hadn't wanted to remove his zip up to try it on on the floor, retreating to a changing stall. When an associate had come by to help and Hunk had explained their quest for clothes the associate ended up dragging Hunk around the store with Lance following and piling several options into Hunk's arms. His eyes had lit up though at one rack and plucked a shirt from it with gusto, holding it up in front of Lance. "Red is most definitely your color," he'd beamed at Lance and Lance…

Lance looked a moment away from fainting or fleeing, Hunk couldn't quite tell, and had backed away with a little gasp. Hunk had thanked the flabbergasted associate for his assistance and said this pile would be great to start with before depositing said pile on a nearby shelf and turning to Lance, who had wrapped both of his arms about himself and was looking pale beneath his tan.

"Lance?" Hunk asked carefully and at the sound of his name Lance jerked his head up. "Everything okay?" Even though Hunk knew it absolutely wasn't.

"Y-yeah. I, just, um…" Lance was not often at a loss for words but he floundered then, shoulders hunching in more. "Just, um, no red." He raised his eyes to Hunk's, that not real smile stretching his face too tight. "Keith'll never let me live it down. Red's his thing, you know? I already took his Lion, I–"

Lance's jaw clamped shut then and Hunk felt his heart sink at the admission.

"You didn't take his Lion," he said gently.

Lance managed a nod. "Still… no… no red."

Hunk knew this wasn't just about the Lion swap, but let it go. No need to make a scene in the middle of the mall and upset Lance further.

They ended up purchasing the jacket, two tops in Lance's preferred baseball-style cut in brown and gray and a pair of not quite jeans but similar enough although they were black instead of blue. Lance had said that was fine. Hunk ended up buying another shirt too and a new pair of fingerless gloves.

Allura wasn't expecting them back for almost two more varga and the flight was at most thirty dobashes, so Hunk had proposed stopping at the food court for snacks. They ended up at what seemed to be an alien smoothie bar and Hunk had watched Lance carefully as he read over the menu board, a small smile tugging up his lips at the outrageously pronounced names with ingredient lists that Hunk had no idea to even begin to guess.

"I'm gonna try the Clactch-el-berry-de-won-per," Hunk sounded out, drawing a light laugh from Lance.

"I guess I'll have the," Lance's eyes narrowed in concentration at the board, "chiba-san-pelo-golfer?"

The host at the front counter rolled all ten of her eyes at the pronunciations and gave them a total and waved them over to a small table with a bored drawl to sit and they'd be brought out soon.

Hunk had so many things he wanted to ask Lance. But he couldn't. Not now. Not when this was the most relaxed he had seen Lance in a while, one arm draped over the back of his chair as ocean eyes wandered about the food court in interest. Lance had always been a people watcher and aliens were certainly an interesting bunch.

So Hunk let the comfortable silence stretch, a smile of his own pulling up his lips. He still wasn't sure if this trip had been a good idea entirely, but it hadn't been all bad.

"Here you are," the table shook as two giant glasses were deposited in front of them and Lance turned from his watching to quietly thank the waitress. Hunk grinned as Lance caught sight of the server.

She looked a bit like Nyma, but with light pink skin and a pair of small nubbed horns peeking out from underneath coils of hair.

She was  _gorgeous._

Hunk's grin widened as he heard the alien give a tiny little inhale as her gaze met Lance's. Perfect. This was great. Lance got to flirt with the pretty alien who clearly saw something in him too.

"Your eyes," the waitress whispered, leaning forward over Hunk's shoulder. "They're such a pretty blue."

Hunk expected a few reactions. One; Lance to return the compliment to the girl's eyes which were a deep shade of green, something about sparkling and emeralds. Two; slick his hand back through his hair and ask her with a cocky grin if she wanted a closer look. Or three; possibly blush and stammer as Lance was  _really_ bad at accepting sincere compliments.

He did none of those.

Instead he pushed back so hard from the table he upended the smoothies, face white and said eyes wide with unmistakable horror. That scared gaze darted from the girl, to Hunk and then back to the girl before Lance turned and fled.

Hunk jumped to his feet, mustered up a smile for the upset waitress, apologized for the mess and then took off after Lance, shopping bags clutched in a white-knuckled grip.

He wasn't hard to catch, as Lance had stopped after leaving the food court and was standing next to an ugly decorative plant, arms wrapped tightly about himself and back pressed against the pot.

"Lance–"

"Can we go home? Please?" Lance looked up, the beginnings of tears showing that he blinked rapidly away. "Please? I… I don't feel good."

Hunk didn't feel good anymore either, stomach feeling like snakes had taken up residence.

Something was  _wrong._

Something was really, really wrong.

"Yeah, yeah of course," he managed.

He didn't try to put an arm about Lance's shoulders, to hug him close, as they walked out for the mall entrance even though he wanted nothing more than to do so as Lance remained hunched over, flinching away at any alien that came too close to him.

When they reached the ship he clambered into the passenger seat, curled up and hid his face against the armrest.

For the first time in their friendship that Hunk could recall there was an awkward silence.

It followed them all the way back to the castle.

xxx

"Good, good, excellent job Hunk. Just like that."

Hunk beamed at Shiro before a moment later his face was opening into a yelp as Allura pivoted her foot inside Hunk's instep and took him to the floor with a thump that shook the training area.

"And an even more excellent job, princess," Shiro congratulated.

All of the Paladins were working on both defensive holds and escapes, a training that should have been done  _long_ ago. It just… it reminded Shiro sometimes of the vague recollections he had of the arena, of grappling with too large, too desperate of opponents as both fought for their lives. He still tried to avoid thinking about it and so avoided things that brought those hazy memories to the surface, even if recently they had been even hazier and more painful than usual.

But it was needed. Lance's abduction had proven that. He'd been practically defenseless without his bayard and knowing at least a few basics of hand-to-hand combat and self-defense were a top priority now.

But getting Lance to participate in the training was harder than Shiro had thought it would be. He had become almost skittish around them, dodging touches and close contact. Shiro had tried the other night, after Hunk and Lance had come home from the mall with Lance retreating immediately to his room and Hunk looking devastated but had only shaken his head when Shiro asked what was wrong, to talk to him, but Lance had refused to answer the door.

Shiro was honestly surprised Lance had even shown up for the training, but he was trying to make the best of it. He'd chosen to pair Lance with himself where he could keep a close eye on him and see if maybe he could figure out what was wrong. He was worried Lance was more injured than he was letting on – maybe a wound he'd sustained had gotten infected? It would explain the touch aversion if he was in pain – and was hoping to at least rule that out (or if it was then get Lance to a pod stat despite protests) with the exercise.

Shiro finished his rounds about the room, nodding at Coran who was taking notes for later and not saying anything as Pidge had Keith in a chokehold and was ruffling his hair because Keith was  _laughing_ so hard he was crying and Shiro knew if he really wanted to get free he could, before he turned to where Lance was standing on the very edge of their mat.

Did he look thinner? Shiro's eyes narrowed as he took in Lance's form, dressed only in the underarmour black suit as they all were for easier movement and less injury from the armor's edges.

No, it wasn't that. It was the way Lance was standing, feet pressed together and arms ramrod straight at his sides and head tucked down, rather than a wide-legged stance and hands on his hips with a loud declaration of how he would take Shiro down.

"Lance," he called out, bringing the dark head up, "ready?"

"Y-yeah," Lance smiled tightly. "Whenever you are, Shiro."

"Just as we practiced," Shiro said, going over the set up again in the hopes the repetition would help Lance to display some of his usual confidence. "I'm going to punch twice and you'll block with your forearm. Then I'm going to grab your arm here," Shiro indicated on his own, "and twist behind you and secure your other hand. Your arms will be immobilized but you're going to use your feet and trip me up on the instep, got it? Don't worry about hurting me," he offered with a grin, "I can take a hit."

Lance did not look reassured but nodded anyways.

"Okay, here we go."

Shiro advanced, and not at the run he'd done at Keith earlier, but a slower, easier to see movement and Lance raised up one arm and blocked. Good. He did it again and Lance switched arms. Still good.

He shifted his hand to grab Lance's left wrist and turned it, carefully, dragging the captured limb behind Lance's back and pivoting them both so Lance's back was pressed up against his chest and his other arm came to wrap around Lance's front to pin his other arm down.

Lance shook in his hold.

"Lance?" Shiro inquired, exhale sending Lance's hair blowing lightly behind his ear.

Lance let out a soft moan of fear.

"Lance, you have to move your feet," Shiro coached, giving Lance a bit of a squeeze to both get him moving and trying to look for a sensitive spot to indicate an injury. Lance had been pretty mum on the details of how he'd been captured but maybe it had been something similar? It would explain the sudden freeze.

Lance whimpered and Shiro frowned.

"Lance?"

Lance moved then. It wasn't the instep though or even a calculated strike. It was a wild flail, heel striking into Shiro's calf and his head smashed backwards, clipping Shiro in the chin. Shiro released him immediately and Lance stumbled away, crashing into the wall and pressing his back against it, chest heaving and eyes wild.

Movement around the room came to a halt.

"Lance?" Shiro forced himself to stay where he was as Lance seemed to be trying to press himself into the wall and as far away from Shiro as possible.

Shiro felt his stomach bottom out.

He'd scared Lance. Somehow.

"Lance," Hunk stepped up to Shiro's position, voice a gentle murmur.

Lance let out a heavy breath, coming back to himself. His eyes though darted about the room, reminding Shiro of a caged animal.

"I'm…" Lance choked out. "I'm…" He locked eyes with Shiro then and Shiro was alarmed to see the beginnings of tears filling his eyes. "I… I have to go."

And before anyone could so much as come up with something to say Lance was speeding past them and fleeing out the door, footsteps pattering away a second later.

"Um, what happened?" Pidge asked, glancing at Shiro and the open door.

"We need to talk," Shiro said instead of answering, looking around the assembled group. He swallowed thickly himself. "About Lance."

That seemed to be the cue to open the floodgates as everyone started talking at once, words growing in cacophony until it was just sound. Shiro raised a hand for quiet, relieved when he got it.

"Something is wrong," Shiro said bluntly and heads nodded about the room, validating his fear. Damn it.

"I'm worried," Hunk said, and while he was wringing his hands his voice was firm. "I… I think – no, I know – something happened with the bounty hunters. Something he won't tell us."

"I agree," Keith said, arms crossed and eyes narrowed in anger but not at Lance. "Things aren't matching up. He's hiding something and so are the Blades. I  _know_ they know something more."

"Sit," Shiro said, gesturing for everyone to do so and they followed through in varying degrees of grace. "We all want to help Lance," he said, meeting each pair of eyes. "So, one at a time, state what you've noticed. Maybe we can get a better picture of what's going on."

As they went around in the circle there were a few pieces of overlap starting to jump out. Touch aversion. Lack of sleep. Skittishness. Fake smiles – Keith had said that one and Hunk had reached over and given his knee a squeeze. Insanely long showers. Avoidance. Hunk whispered how Lance had shot down his offer for a sleepover and Pidge then had given the larger boy's arm a hug.

There were other things, anomalies that didn't add up to the story of the bounty hunters. The gold coating on the shock collar, which itself was wrong as the features it carried would not be something a bounty hunter would need. Keith pointing out the Blades had arrived in an almost near panic and hadn't known what the illness was until later, which made no sense if Lance had been rescued and explained it right away, which they all knew he would have. He added in his observations too about Lance's appearance from what he recalled; barefoot and clutching a blanket around him that had displayed what looked like could have been a bare and strangely shiny shoulder. Hunk shared Lance's behavior at the mall; the way he'd reacted to the color red, a compliment to his eyes and his aversion to the store windows.

Pieces were starting to click together with each reveal.

No one wanted to say it though.

Because such a thing… it couldn't be true.

It still didn't all make sense, but there was enough to come to at least one conclusion.

Lance's claims that nothing had happened were a lie.

Something had happened.

Something  _bad._

"He was raped," Keith was the one who finally said it, voice blunt but the crack to it voice showed his feelings on the subject.

Hunk let out a soft sob and Pidge whimpered.

"But why?" Allura whispered, hands trembling. "Why would bounty hunters…?"

"Amusement?" Shiro put forth, voice hard. "Boredom?" His prosthetic creaked.

"Maybe it wasn't bounty hunters at all," Pidge said quietly. Every set of eyes turned to her. "I… I mean, there's so many other things that don't make sense. Maybe… maybe it's something else. But I… I still think… think…Lance, he… he was…" she trailed off and shook her head. She couldn't say it.

"The Blades have to know," Keith said, eyes narrowing. "Why would they keep this from us?"

"To protect the universe," Coran put in, a simmer of rage in his voice. He turned to Keith then, jeweled eyes more serious than any had ever seen. "Number Four, what is the Blade of Marmora's approach to all things?"

Keith saw where this was going. "The mission before the man," he murmured.

"The Blades rescued Lance," Coran continued, "and I have no doubt they put such a mantra into his head."

"A Paladin before a person," Hunk translated, his own fist tightening. "Lance, he… he was trying to…"

"He was attempting to pretend it did not happen so as to not hurt the team," Allura finished. "Oh, Lance…"

"Their intentions were likely kind," Shiro said quietly. "But it doesn't negate that Lance has felt he had to… to hide this. To… to heal on his own. Speaking of." He turned to Coran. "On Earth when… when this happens there can be diseases spread. With a different alien biology, I don't know what might have happened, but…"

Coran inclined his head. "If this is indeed what has happened I will see to it that Lance is taken care of. I swear it."

"What… what do we do now?" Pidge asked, voice small. Shiro's heart ached that she was even being exposed to this, but he supposed none of them were technically children no matter their ages. Not anymore.

And… and especially not Lance.

"We talk to him," Hunk said firmly even as tears gathered in his eyes. "We show him that we're there f-for him. That he's s-safe. And… and…"

"Well said, Hunk," Allura smiled, both strained and relieved. "We will not allow him to suffer this alone any longer."

"That said, we will  _not_ crowd, we will not ask questions he doesn't want to answer, and we will respect Lance's wishes if he wants us to leave," Shiro said. "Understand?" Heads bobbed around the room. "Good. Then let's go."

"As in let's go now?" Pidge asked, even as she accepted Keith's hand up. "Isn't that…?" Shouldn't they make a plan on what to say? Calculate the risks of certain statements and word choices? Debate on the best approach?

"Lance has been hurting long enough," Shiro said simply. "It's time for that to stop."

"He is on the bridge," Coran reported, looking up from his tablet. "The bay window was unblocked about ten dobashes ago."

Star gazing. Shiro was familiar with such a sight, sometimes stumbling across Lance on the bridge during his nightly patrols looking out at the universe, sometimes with Hunk or Pidge by his side. Shiro personally avoided doing so. It was a constant reminder to him of how  _small_ they were and how big the universe and Zarkon's terror was. But Lance had told him he found peace in the starry landscape, to know that he was one small dot but there were billions more just like him all looking out at the same dark sky. That he was not alone.

But he had been alone the past few days, afraid to confide in anyone.

Not anymore.

This ended now.

They trooped silently to the bridge, letting instinct guide them as to what to say. Lance was where they expected to find him; sitting with his knees drawn up and head resting on them in the wane light cast by the universe outside. Allura left the lights dim to preserve it, feeling that such a conversation should not be had under the bridge's typical overbright atmosphere.

"Lance?" Hunk called out first and a dark head picked itself up at the address. Even in the shadows they could all see Lance's eyes widen, his mouth form an 'oh' of surprise as he took in all of them and the way his shoulders stiffened ever so.

They all wondered how they had ever missed it.

"Can we talk,  _hermano?"_ Hunk continued. "¿ _Por favor?"_

Lance's throat bobbed and after a moment he nodded.

They all sat down then, not quite touching Lance but close. Even then Lance leaned away slightly, arms moving to cradle in his lap.

"So, um, what's up?" he asked, shooting them a small smile.

Keith's words of 'fake' rang true.

There was a shared silence then, side glances being thrown at one another because  _this was it_ and they needed to say something.

Shiro decided to speak before Keith's natural bluntness and impatience shoved to the front. "Lance," and blue eyes directed themselves to meet his charcoal, "we're worried about you." And okay, that was a little blunt too but still better than what could have led.

"Oh," came the quiet response. "Um," another too tight smile, "I'm okay. Sorry about training, I—"

"Lance, stop," Pidge interrupted. "Stop apologizing. Stop saying you're okay. We  _know_ you're not okay. We…" Her hands trembled on her lap. "We  _know_ what happened."

"…what?" It was more a gasp than a word. "N-no. Nothing… nothing hap-p-pened." Lance shifted as though to get up, to flee again, but Hunk spoke, reaching out a hand although he didn't try and stop Lance.

"Lance,  _please._ Talk to us. Please. We're worried about you,  _hermano._ Please. Let us help."

"Lance," Allura spoke then, regal tones softened. " _You_ come before any mission. Your health and safety is most important. I reiterate what Hunk said. Please, let us help you."

Lance sank fully back down, hands moving to wrap about his stomach. Hunk ached to go to him but he held himself back. Not yet. Not until Lance gave the okay.

"There is no judgment here, lad," Coran said gently. "We all merely want you to be happy again.  _Truly_ happy," he clarified. "And my boy… you are not happy right now."

Lance gave the barest shake of his head. "I c-can't. You'll... you'll be so…"

"Why don't you let us decide how we feel?" Keith interrupted. Shiro winced. He should have seen something like that coming. "But I'll tell you right now…" A sheen of pink highlighted Keith's cheeks. "Nothing you say will make us think less of you. Got it?" Shiro's shoulders untensed as Lance looked up at that, lip wobbling.

"I…" Lance's shoulders shook. His words came out a whisper. "I… I wasn't captured by bounty hunters."

No one interrupted.

Lance took a deep breath. "I was captured by a… a slave trader."

Hunk sucked in a harsh breath and Allura let out a little gasp.

It was worse than they had imagined.

Lance ducked his head, staring at his clasped hands and not at any of them.

"I woke up in ch-chains and…" he shuddered, arms tightening about his body. Hunk physically ached to hug him. "And f-found out it was a s—" he broke off, shaking his head. "A se—" the word stuttered again.

"Sex slavery," Shiro filled in quietly and Lance let out a sob and a nod of his head.

God fucking damnit. He had still held onto the hope that it wasn't as bad as they had imagined.

It was worse.

Shiro felt his flesh hand being squeezed by Pidge and he squeezed back.

"He said he had to… to inspect the," Lance's face visibly flamed even though most of it was hidden. "The merchandise," he finished in a whisper. "So he… he…"

"Lance," Hunk murmured as Lance trembled and yet he still couldn't go to him. Not yet.

Lance's hand opened and closed on his knee, nails biting into his palm. "He… he took my, my clothes. And he…" Lance shook his head again. "I c-can't. I'm s-sorry, I—"

"That's enough," Coran said, voice sharp but not directed at Lance. "That's enough," he repeated more gently. "Lance, lad, you don't have to say any more." They had their answer now. Well, most of one. Coran still needed to find out if there had been anything left behind, any disease that was festering. But such a conversation could wait for a more private audience.

Lance shook his head again. "N-no."

Coran had no idea what he was denying or protesting.

Lance took a shuddering breath and then another. He looked up then and while there were tears sparkling in his eyes, refusing still to fall, there was a different cast to them.

Determination. Strength.

It was easy to see why. For other than the horror and grief etched into all of the Paladins' faces there was no anger directed towards Lance, no disgust or disappointment at what had happened.

Coran had never been prouder of this bunch of humans and his princess.

"He didn't… didn't do  _that,"_ Lance said, cheeks coloring again. "He just…" Lances hands dug into themselves again. "K-kisses," he finally said. "Touches. H-hands." He shivered. "Fingers. All over." He averted his gaze fully back down to his knees. "In... inside."

Pidge's free hand was clenched to her mouth in a fist and Hunk looked one second away from being sick. It wasn't quite what they had imagined but it was no less awful.

Lance had still been… been…

And not even just for a sick amusement like Shiro had predicted. No. It had been to prep him, to get him ready for something even  _worse_ that awaited.

Lance had not been a person there. He had been an object.  _Merchandise._

And they knew that still hadn't been all of it. Lance hadn't mentioned the collar. The color aversion or his eyes. There were still so many horrors here and Lance had been trying to hide them all.

"Th-then," Lance continued, not yet done, "I… I went up for sale." He looked up then, despair filling his face. "There were  _so_ many. All in… in display cases and… and…"

Display case.

Hunk suddenly understood why the mannequins had caused such a reaction.

"They were all sold," Lance whispered. "And he… he let the audience…let them touch and k-kiss and…" He didn't seem to be aware he was doing it but his hand was touching the base of his throat, wincing.

"They were sold," Lance repeated. "And they… they didn't get rescued."

It was a sad fact, Shiro knew. The Galra were the main enemy of the universe but there were so many more vile people that populated it. There was no way to save every single one, not as they were. And Lance had had a first row seat to the worst of the depravity.

"But you did," Keith said quietly, gratefully. He looked up and caught Shiro's eye and Shiro understood. Keith knew. Not the same circumstances, thank God, but he personally knew about those that were saved and those that were not.

Lance nodded. "The Blades… they recognized me." His voice was steadier now although he had yet to meet their eyes again. "They realized something must be wrong since I was there and… and the castle wouldn't have responded. They sent help. And Keizu b-bought me. And… and that's m-most of it."

Lance let out a soft sob, dragging a hand up to his face to rub at his eyes, banishing the not-quite tears.

"You were very brave," Shiro said softly, but Lance shook his head.

"N-no. I was  _stupid._ And  _weak."_ His hands clenched together. "My fault," he breathed. "You all almost  _died_ and I couldn't get away and you were going to  _die,"_ his voice was rising in pitch and speed. "And I, I b-begged and he didn't care and I couldn't escape even when he gave me a chance and h-he and the rock alien and they laughed and it was all my fault and—"

Lance cut himself off with a gasp and a cry.

"Lance, no," Shiro protested, echoed by the same. " _None_ of this is your fault. Buddy, no."

Lance just let out a sob and shook his head.

Hunk had had enough.

"Lance,  _hermano,"_ he inched closer, reaching out a hand. "Please, can I…?"

Lance looked up and met his eyes and that was answer enough for Hunk. He closed the distance between them in a second, wrapping his arms about Lance from the side and guiding Lance into the hug. Lance stiffened for all of a second and then went completely limp in Hunk's hold, pressing his face into the sweaty underarmor of his chest and hiding it.

"Can… can we hug you too?" Pidge asked and was rewarded by Lance's head giving the tiniest bob.

They moved slowly, ending up in more of touches and holds than an actual hug. Pidge sat down on Lance's other side and rested her head against his turned back and Shiro sat behind her, placing a hand on Lance's shoulder. Allura knelt in front of Hunk and put one of her hands on Lance's other shoulder while Keith crouched next to her and very gently wrapped one hand about Lance's arm. Coran put his flush on Lance's back and moved it in small circles.

They could feel Lance's heart racing like this, but as the minutes passed it began to slow as did his shaking.

"None of this is your fault," Shiro repeated himself and based on Lance's slight shift of his head he was listening. "None of it. You were so brave, Lance. You fought back. You tried to escape. And even…" it was Shiro's turn to choke out a sob. "Even though it didn't work," – Lance stiffened and Hunk let out a gentle murmur – "even though  _that_ happened… you did  _not_ fail. You were not and are not weak."

"The ones who are weak are those that did this," Allura picked up. "They are weak of heart. And morals. And compassion and decency and love.  _They_ are the only ones in which to find fault and," her voice hardened, "they will face justice someday. But, you, Lance," her hand gave his shoulder a small squeeze, "you are not. Please, do not believe yourself so any longer."

Lance shifted in Hunk's embrace, picking his head up to glance around the group.

His team – no, his family – all looked back at him with soft eyes and what smiles they could.

Not a drop of hate. Or disgust. Or disappointment.

Tears filled his eyes again but for a very different reason.

"I'm…"

"Apologize again and I will hit you," Pidge warned and Lance's sob turned into a strangled laugh.

" _Gracias,"_ he said instead. "Th-thank you. I… I just…V-Voltron. The universe. I... I didn't want to, to let you down."

"You could never do that, my boy," Coran said gently, seconded by quiet affirmations. "We are all here for you, just as you are always here for us. Let us shoulder this hurt with you."

Lance's eyes were stinging again and this time he didn't try to stop it. Didn't try to muffle the sobs or hide his grief and horror. He didn't pull away as Hunk held him tighter and the assorted hands gave small squeezes and pats, kind and gentle and not anything like previous touches.

And safe in the arms of his family Lance finally allowed himself to cry.

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> Commissioned fic for fayheyhey (10k; look at me fail at that again) for a follow-up to So Much to Offer focusing on Lance after the events there and eventually leading to some healing and recovery. I was asked to write the fic mainly from the limited perspective of other characters and I have to say I loved this approach. Lance tries so hard but he's not someone who can hide something like this, not well at least.
> 
> There were a *lot* of comments for a follow up so be sure to thank fayheyhey for this as without her we'd have left off on the (lovely, I think still) bittersweet ending of So Much to Offer and you would all just have to imagine how this went down.
> 
> I hope you all enjoyed it! Please do leave a comment below; I would love to hear from you!


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